


Turning the Tables

by kisahawklin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bossy Sam, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Subterfuge, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: Man, you had so many good likes and prompts, verucasalt123! I went with "a long way from the playground", underage, first times, pwp, and bossy!Sam. Hope you enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verucasalt123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/gifts).



> Man, you had so many good likes and prompts, verucasalt123! I went with "a long way from the playground", underage, first times, pwp, and bossy!Sam. Hope you enjoy!

Dean watches Sam dither in front of the mirror, brushing his bangs back, then shaking them out, retying his tie. It's cute, Sam getting ready for prom. He cracks a grin and muscles his way in to pick his teeth in the mirror, ruffling Sam's hair. 

"Stop it, Dean," Sam whines. "I'm nervous enough."

"Aw, Sammy, what's to be nervous about?" 

Sam just gives him the exasperated eyes, and Dean grins, slapping Sam on the back. "Attaboy, Sammy."

"But Dean, what if I don't know what I'm doing?" Sam's eyes shift from exasperated to pleading puppy eyes in half a second, and Dean can feel his smirk melt into something more fond. 

"You'll be fine. It's not like _you're_ a virgin." Sam's just had his sixteenth birthday – there's no way…

The smile slips off Dean's lips entirely as Sam's embarrassment becomes obvious. Is it possible? Really? Sam's never?

"It'll be fine," Dean says, with as much confidence as he can muster. In his experience, first times are almost universally awkward and awful. He stopped going after virgins a few months after he lost his own virginity. Too much baggage.

"I haven't even kissed that many people," Sam says, and Dean just shakes his head. Kid's had his head buried in books for too long. Dean's been a crappy older brother not to have pushed Sam along earlier.

"It's fine," Dean says, squeezing Sam's shoulder and guiding him over to the bed to sit. "I'll teach you a trick."

"What trick?" Sam asks, clearly dubious.

"When you're getting ready to kiss her, lick your lips." Dean demonstrates, and Sam stares at his lips, proving his point. "It focuses her attention, and lubes them up so you can go straight for tongue."

Sam blinks. "I don’t know, Dean." He looks even more dubious now. "I'll probably look ridiculous."

"Give it a shot," Dean says, nodding, trying to be supportive. He never thought he'd have to teach this kind of thing to Sam; he'd always thought it'd be a simple "glove before love" sort of moment and then Sam going off into the sunset with some pretty dark-haired girl like he favored. Dean pauses in thought, thinking of the girls he's seen Sam with. He's not totally awkward, he's had some pretty girls hang around. Dean could've sworn Sam'd gotten some before.

Sam rolls his eyes. "It's going to look even more ridiculous if I do it for you."

"Nah," Dean says, scooting in a little closer. "Just pretend. You're good at that."

Sam nods, looking down at his hands for a moment before turning to Dean, looking like a deer about to bolt. Dean smiles at him, trying his best to look demure and flirty. Sam swallows hard, shifting forward a little, bringing his face in. He lifts a hand and cups Dean's cheek – it's a really smooth move that Dean totally intends to steal. How had he never thought of that?

Then Sammy licks his lips, just like Dean showed him, releasing his lower lip nice and slow, all shiny and slick. _Perfect._

Dean's about to tell him so when Sam leans in a couple more inches and kisses him. Dean makes a noise in the back of his throat. He thinks it was protest; at least, he'll say it was until his dying day – but when Sam tries to slip him some tongue, he snaps back to himself and pulls back, giving Sam a shove. 

"What the hell was that?"

Sam has the good grace to blush and look away. "I thought we were practicing."

"You need practice kissing, too? Jeez, Sammy, you been celibate all these years?"

Sam stares down at his hands, linked together and nervously fidgeting. "I don't want to disappoint Kelly."

Dean sighs dramatically. "Fine." Sam still looks dejected, so he pushes a little. "Is she shy?"

Sam nods, still looking morose.

"Okay," Dean says, gripping Sam's shoulders and turning him so they're face to face again. "For the shy girls, you can't just go crazy and stick your tongue in their mouth. You gotta tease them a little, yeah?"

Dean's heart is thumping like he's the one getting ready to work his magic on some shy girl. He brings his hand up to Sam's face. "That's a nice touch – but take it easy on her – go slow."

He rubs a thumb over Sam's lips, and Sam gasps. "See?"

Sam nods, and Dean drops his hand, an unspoken _you try it_ hanging between them.

Sam scoots closer, bringing his hand up to Dean's face, cupping it, and Dean can feel his heart pounding, waiting, as Sam swipes his thumb over Dean's lips. His tongue darts out unconsciously and meets the tip of Sam's thumb, and Sam's eyes dilate just like that, big and dark. Dean's a little concerned, seeing that happen to his brother, but Sam licks his lips and suddenly all Dean's attention is focused on Sam's mouth, and he's breathing hard, and something really weird is happening, but he can't quite get it together to figure it out, not before Sam leans in, pressing a soft, closed-mouth kiss against his lips.

Then Sam teases him with the tip of his tongue and something goes really haywire, because Dean pushes forward, chasing Sam's tongue. It takes a full minute of making out with his brother before his brain comes back online and he pulls back, Sam following him the whole way.

He huffs out a little laugh. "Think you're gonna be fine there, Sammy. She won't know what hit her."

Sam's eyes are still dark, and not nearly so innocent-looking as when he was messing with his hair in the mirror a couple of minutes ago. "Oh, I should've mentioned," he says casually, leaning forward toward Dean. "Kelly's a guy."

He cups Dean's face again, licking his lips, and fuck, why did Dean teach him that trick? He can't help staring when Sam does that. Sam moves in and Dean's eyes drift shut, proving that not only does Sam not need any more practice, but he might never have needed any at all. Then Sam whispers, right against Dean's mouth, "So there are a few other things I need to practice…"

Dean's heart speeds up, fast and loud like a jackhammer, and then Sam's kissing him again and all thought stops. Something's a little uncomfortable, there's definitely a confused part of him wondering why this is happening, but Dean's always been a roll-with-it kind of guy, and if Sam wants to practice this, he's automatically tuned in to help the kid out.

Sam gets his hands under Dean's t-shirt, pushing it up Dean's chest and breaking their kiss just long enough to sweep it off over his head in a weirdly smooth move – and that's something Dean's never been able to do with girls for shit, undressing them is always a nightmare, and then with the bras…

Sam comes back for more kisses and Dean's brain shorts out again, now doubly confused as Sam's free hand is roaming up his body, his fingers tracing Dean's skin like they don't already know most of it from years of patching each other up and sharing a bed when Dad's around, but this is different, this is a way Sam doesn't know him, and he might not really know himself – no one has ever touch him this way, gently, with kindness, with curiosity. 

Sam's hand travels up his throat, something that makes Dean shiver. And then Sam presses his thumbs into Dean's neck, right up under his jaw on his carotids, and Dean's eyes snap open. He can't speak – Sam's got a tight grip on his jaw now – but all the instincts that have been in the back of his brain clamoring all quiet and polite jump forward and he hisses out his breath between clenched teeth. 

"Did I mention he's a little kinky?" Sam asks, his eyes dark and focused on Dean, moving over his face restlessly. 

Dean's vision is starting to grey out, and he thinks maybe he should be afraid, but this is Sam, and Sam would never hurt him. His skin is starting to tingle, and he can feel Sam's hands on him like they're burning, He tries to say Sam's name, but can't quite get it out. Sam lifts one side of his mouth in a ghost of a smile and Dean has just enough thought left to realize maybe he's gotten in over his head here.

Dean's eyes start to drift closed again and Sam suddenly releases him, all the blood coming back in a rush. It's incredible, the way everything seems hyper-real, how he can see Sam in sharp outline, feel the way he's pressing Dean down onto the bed and reaching for his jeans, something that Dean knows he should be objecting to, but not really having it in him to do it.

Sam strips him completely, the feeling of his jeans and boxers been pulled down his legs almost painful, rough fabric against the hypersensitivity of his skin, pins and needles.

Dean feels drugged, dull and unyielding, watching these things happen with a vague sense that he should be doing something, but without the impetus to do it. There's a part of him watching hungrily, too, but he can't indulge in that either, he's just trying to hold on while Sam works some strange magic on him, weaving this spell Dean's helpless against.

After he's stripped naked, Sam comes back, kneeling between Dean's legs, and Dean tries to sit up but has to settle for raising his head. "Sammy," he says weakly.

"Shhh," Sam says. "We're just practicing, right? Blowjobs take a lot of practice."

Sam closes his lips over the head of Dean's dick and Dean drops his head back to the mattress with a groan. Blowjobs may take a lot of practice, but Dean gets the feeling Sam's spent more than a few hours on his knees. Cocksucking has never been so perfect, Sam's mouth on him more than enough, but Sam pulls off tricks Dean's never experienced before, and he's paid for it more than once. 

There's something with the rhythm, the perfect speed and suction and so steady, a thrum hammering at him and breaking down whatever small resistance he had left. 

"Sammy," he says again, when his balls clench up and he knows he's about to shoot in his brother's mouth, and fuck if that picture isn't enough to make it happen, coming harder than he has in his entire life, and nearly ready to go again when he hears the whimpering sounds Sam's making as he wraps his tongue around Dean after every spurt, like he's milking it. _Fuck._

After Dean is well and truly done, wrung out with his softening dick in Sam's mouth, he waits to see what's next. He hasn’t been played that thoroughly in a really long time, and he wouldn't have thought Sammy capable of it. 

Sam takes his sweet time getting off his knees, stripping out of the tux that should look awkward but doesn't, placing it over a chair on the crappy kitchenette table and wandering back to where Dean's immovable on the bed, head still tipped back because he can't quite process what happened back there, and it makes him feel better. 

"Dean," Sam says, and Dean gives the tiniest nod, closing his eyes because he cannot even guess what might be next, and it's like his whole world got sucked away in a twister and he's looking up at the night sky and endless, unknown possibilities in front of him.

"Yeah, Sam?"

He feels the dip of the bed that means Sam's put his knee down on it, and he waits. He's used to this. It's the blacktop stretching in front of him, calling him to his next adventure, letting him know there's so much more out there. 

"That was okay?"

He can hear the uncertainty in Sam's voice. The shy, bookish kid from before whatever the hell this was is back, and while it's something of a relief to know he's still in there, Dean's still marveling at the slick way Sam just blew past any kind of resistance he knew Dean would offer. He takes a deep breath and can't help a smile. He hopes it says everything he needs it to, because there's no way for him to put words to this, and he thinks if he tried, that might ruin it.

"Yeah, Sam."

The bed jiggles as Sam lowers himself completely on it, his skin hot on Dean's side. Dean sweeps one glance down Sam's skinny frame – those four inches really took away any pudge Sam might have had left from those awkward middle school years – and it's obvious that Sam's still hard. 

His head is tucked into Dean's shoulder, eyes down, like he's embarrassed, and there's no way Dean can let that happen, because Sam being confident was a revelation, and he's not going to let him crawl all the way back into that shell.

"Hey," Dean says, shifting Sam around until he's got an arm around Sam's back and his other hand free and in a good position to get it on Sam's dick. "Don't be shy."

Sam ducks his head even harder into Dean's shoulder, and Dean bobbles him a little with it. "C'mere," he says, whispering it against Sam's temple, waiting for Sam to look up so he can kiss him.

Sam's eyes meet his, and Dean pulls out the trick that started all this, wetting his lips and watching Sam's pupils dilate in the dingy light of the motel room. It works – Sam lunges up Dean's side for a kiss, tongue coming out immediately, groaning into Dean's mouth when Dean pumps his dick a couple times. 

They make out for a while, Dean stroking Sam every once in a while, just to keep him jumpy, but after a while, Sam gets listless, his mouth dropping open and head lolling back, and Dean lets him go, shifting them so Sam's on his back and Dean's at his side, kissing his neck and giving him a handjob in earnest, watching the way Sam's eyes slide shut as he starts to shake.

"Dean," he says, so softly, nothing more than a whisper, a secret for the space between them.

"Yeah," Dean says, because this is another side of Sam he's never seen, and another side he likes a lot, this quiet surrender. "Yeah, that's it, Sammy, come on now."

Sam's head turns to the side, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he mouths Dean's name against the skin of Dean's shoulder, finally coming, slow and thunderous like a landslide, shaking like he's going to come apart under Dean's hands.

It's like watching the ripples from skipping rocks dissipate, the way Sam's body settles. His face goes slack and Dean can feel the shift in the bed that means Sam's nearly asleep, just like that. He grabs his t-shirt, his favorite Black Sabbath one, and wipes Sam off as he dozes. He stares down at his little brother, wondering where this was all hiding. Wondering how he hadn't seen it before. Wondering if there's a real prom date somewhere getting stood up.

He doubts it. Sam probably rented a tux with this plan in mind – and wouldn't that be a hoot. Dean was Sam's prom date. He smiles, leaning down to kiss the top of Sam's head again. It should be weird, that kind of affection mixing it up with the low swirl of lust in his guts when he thinks about that blowjob, but it's not. Sam's been the center of his life for a good long while, and he finds he doesn’t much care about the details of "everything" means when it comes to Sam.

He settles in next to Sam, lets his mind wander to that open road he'd imagined before and tools along it for a while, wondering what comes next.


End file.
